writing
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What is your mission? My mission in life is to rise into the greatest version of myself — a version I’ve never met before, but one I’m determined to become. I am committed to becoming someone the next generation can point to with pride, someone whose footsteps make the path a little clearer, a little
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Do you spend more time thinking about the future or the past? Why? I spend more time thinking about the future because it holds what I want most in this world—possibility. The past isn’t meant to be lived in for too long, though for an overthinker like me, revisiting it is sometimes inevitable. The past
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You get to build your perfect space for reading and writing. What’s it like? Your perfect reading and writing space feels like exhale. It’s tucked slightly away from the world—close enough that life can still reach you if it needs to, but far enough that nothing demands you. The room is filled with natural light
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Is your life today what you pictured a year ago? I can’t say my life is exactly where I wanted it to be this year compared to last, but growth rarely happens in a straight line. Sometimes progress comes in small steps, sometimes in leaps. For me, the major shifts still need more movement, but
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The Mystery Together with Lucas, Clara’s thoughtful childhood friend, they followed the diary’s clues. Hidden tunnels beneath the town, maps etched into stone, whispers of families who had built Harbor’s Edge with sacrifice and hope. There were moments of fear—passages collapsing, riddles that demanded trust—but Clara found her voice in the chaos. Max, for once,
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Collision The old lighthouse loomed over the rocky shore, its stones weathered by centuries of storms. Max, exploring recklessly, stumbled upon an inscription carved into the wall. “Check this out!” he shouted, brushing sand from the letters. Clara hurried over, her eyes widening. The words matched the diary’s riddles. She hesitated, then showed him the
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For 2,558 days, I lived in a world that looked whole from the outside but was fractured within. I once imagined betrayal in its most obvious forms—infidelity, violence, the kind of wounds that leave visible scars. I thought that if you had broken me in those ways, at least the wreckage would make sense. I
